


Secrets

by 391780 (goblinparty)



Series: Cold Wind [4]
Category: Fargo (2014)
Genre: Gen, Minor Character Deaths, gun stuff, more drinking!, more emotional constipation!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-22
Updated: 2014-08-22
Packaged: 2018-02-14 07:41:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,452
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2183508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goblinparty/pseuds/391780
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Of all the fucking places.” Numbers muttered to himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Secrets

“Of all the fucking places.” Numbers muttered to himself, tossing the folder into the back seat and picking up his ASL study book again. White fields whipped past the car windows, and he looked out onto them as he absentmindedly ran his fingers over his hair. Everything about this assignment looked like trouble to Numbers. It was supposed to be a very easy job, according to The Aussie, which usually meant it was actually going to be a giant pain in the ass. On top of that, it was located in Numbers' old hometown, and while time and a beard would probably keep him disguised well enough, he was still uncomfortable with the thought of being anywhere near anyone who had known him before he became Mr. Numbers. He flipped through his book, looking for signs he hadn't mastered yet and practicing them repeatedly. He saw Wrench peeking from the corner of his eye to watch Numbers practice, a faint smile on his face. Numbers was proud of how much he had managed to learn, and was just glad he had a regular partner to practice with. He hoped Fargo wouldn't try to pair him up with anyone new, it would be such a shame to have put so much work into it and then have it all be wasted.

Wrench pulled over into a rest area, turned off the car, and turned in his seat to face Numbers.

_What's the plan?_

_No plan. Just pick up the backpack and go home._

_Seriously?_

_Seriously. Aussie said easy job._

Wrench put on a skeptical face, and Numbers laughed.

_Yeah, I agree. Go in armed, just in case._

Wrench nodded, and turned the ignition key again. He hoped that he and Numbers were wrong about this pickup, but a weight in his stomach told him he was wrong to be optimistic.

The two men arrived at the warehouse a few minutes early and sauntered into the office. Numbers had decided to keep his Sig Sauer in his jacket, but Wrench decided to forgo subtlety and had a baseball bat resting on his shoulder. The man behind the desk looked very nervous, his eyes darting from the men in front of him to the windows behind them. Sweat beaded on his large balding patch, making the few hairs that did reside there stick to his scalp. Numbers knew in his gut this was all going to explode at any minute, but he couldn't be sure how or in what direction the chaos would come from. The nervous man handed them a canvas backpack that seemed heavier than anything that size ought to be, and waved them off with a terrified looking smile. No sooner had Wrench stepped out of the office door, a bottle smashed against his face, throwing blood and shards of glass in every direction. Wrench blindly swung his bat with all of his strength towards where the bottle had been launched, cracking a pock-marked man in the jaw with a loud, wet crunch. Numbers had his gun out, firing towards three armed men approaching him and his partner. He grabbed Wrench by the elbow and led him down the steps to the warehouse floor, dodging behind crates and boxes as gunshots rang out.

_Three guys left. At least two have guns._

_What about the guy in the office?_

_That c-h-i-c-k-e-n-s-h-i-t? If they haven't shot him in the head yet, he'll be hiding under his desk until we all leave._

Wrench nodded.

_We need to get out, find a place to hide for a while._

A gunshot rang out, and splinters rained down on them from where a bullet had made impact with a wooden crate. Numbers fired twice, hitting one man in the shoulder and spraying another's brains against a whitewashed concrete wall. Wrench and Numbers crawled to what looked to be a break room, blocking the door and closing the blinds. Numbers peeked out to see if outside was clear, and he spotted two large men in puffy coats carrying assault weapons. He slid down the wall and sighed, feeling a firm tap on his knee.

_How's it look?_

_We need to make a break for it, but there's two outside with a lot of firepower._

_Have they found the car?_

Numbers shook his head. _Doubt it. We parked far enough away that they won't know it's ours. They seem to be circling, though. If we time it right, we can run out this door while they're on the other side of the building._

_Clever._ Wrench grinned at his partner.

_Of course it's clever, I'm the one who thought of it._ Numbers tried to stifle his laugh at Wrench's eyeroll, making a low choking sound.

They waited in silence for a time, then decided to try their luck running out the door. Numbers sprinted a few yards then ducked behind a large fir tree, then motioned for Wrench to follow. As the large man sprinted towards him, he saw Numbers' face contort into an expression of fear, and watched his partners hands as they told him to run faster. Wrench ducked behind a tree, unable to hear the shouts of frustration from his pursuers.

“Shit. Shit shit shit.” Numbers muttered into cold air. They were too close, they'd almost seen Wrench. He thought of the cabin he knew less than ten miles away. He thought of it's large, overstuffed couch and stone fireplaces, it's big kitchen and soft beds. It was simultaneously completely ideal and the worst idea he'd ever had. He scowled, and looked over to Wrench. The cut on his head was still dripping blood, and Wrench was looking very antsy being out in the open and not moving anywhere. Numbers couldn't blame him. They needed to get out as soon as possible. He waved at Wrench to get his attention.

_Can I trust you?_

Wrench blanched. _What?_

 _Can I trust you?_ Numbers repeated.

Wrench nodded sharply.

Numbers took a deep breath, looking Wrench up and down. _I know a place we can go. It's my family's old cabin. Lots of...p-e-r-s-o-n-a-l-s-t-u-f-f there. Secrets._ A bullet ricocheted in the distance. _You can't ever tell anyone. Understand me?_

Wrench nodded. _Your secrets are safe with me._

Numbers couldn't help but smirk at that. He had signed it with such conviction, Numbers almost believed him. He looked around, making sure the coast was clear, tapped Wrench on the arm and led him towards the old road that would lead to the long abandoned family cabin.

They got to the small cabin by the time the sun had gone down. Numbers dug into the snow to find the rock shaped hide-a-key, and quickly opened the door. He hurried inside while Wrench stayed on watch outside. As soon as Numbers had a lantern lit, Wrench sauntered inside. It somehow almost felt colder inside than outside, but Numbers was already on his knees unloading firewood into the impressive stone fireplace, so Wrench didn't complain. As Numbers busied himself with making a fire, Wrench scanned the old photographs hung on the wall. He saw Numbers as a teenager, begrudgingly standing next to a man that Wrench had seen before, tied to an office chair. Seeing them like this, both clean shaven and scowling, he could see the resemblance. Wrench moved on to the next picture, a mother and a daughter, both with very dark hair and eyes, smiling wide and holding up pies they had made. Wrench noticed that the mother had a black eye. He scanned through more photos. The daughter in a school play, Numbers smiling, holding a fish, Numbers grinning with his sister in front of Mount Rushmore. With each new photo Wrench felt something in his chest. These photos were secrets that nobody in Numbers' life knew, except for him. In their line of work, secrets like this could get you killed, or worse yet, kill the people you cared about. The fact that Numbers had led him here instead of killing him and escaping on his own filled him with the pride of someone entrusted with a life. Wrench silently vowed to himself to take everything he saw here to the grave.

Wrench wandered through to the kitchen, finding the cupboards filled with pasta, MRE's, and liquor. The fridge was empty on the inside, but entirely covered in yellowing drawings of crudely drawn animals and mountains, each one signed in the corner 'Adam- Age 11'. Wrench walked away from it quickly so Numbers wouldn't see him near the drawings. He chastised himself for being surprised at Numbers' name. Had he really thought someone had brought an infant into this world and named it 'Mister Numbers'? Wrench shook his head at no one in particular. He grabbed a few bottles of decent bourbon and brought them out to the living room, where Numbers had just gotten the fire started. Wrench could feel the heat trickle through the cold air. If the fire kept up, he might actually be able to take his coat off soon. Numbers smiled at him and flopped down on the couch, visibly exhausted.

_We still have the backpack?_

Wrench shrugged the heavy bag off his shoulders, patting it gingerly.

“Excellent.” Numbers sighed to himself. At least they managed to pull it off. Lord knows the amount of bullshit The Aussie would give them if they'd failed his 'easy' little job. Numbers looked up, noticing Wrench waving fringe-covered arms to get his attention.

_Would either of them,_ Wrench gestured to the family photos,  _show up here unannounced?_ He fingerspelled the last word, then repeated the sign.

_Unannounced? No. Cabin is mine now. Dad gave it to me in the w-i-l-l._ Wrench showed him the sign.  _Will. Others are dead. Just me now. No visitors._

Wrench raised his fist to his chest, rubbing it in a circle. _Sorry._

Numbers shrugged. _It is what it is._

 _Do you want to drink about it?_ Wrench pointed to the bottles of bourbon.

Numbers laughed, nodding his head.

_I'll get the glasses._

Wrench sat next to him and tapped his knee.

_Nah. Bottle each._

_I knew I liked you._

Wrench blushed in the dim light as he passed Numbers the bottle. Numbers threw back his head and took a slug of bourbon. A couple more of those and he'd be feeling a lot better.

_How's the head?_

Wrench touched his forehead. It was tender, but the bleeding had stopped, and seemed to be entirely superficial anyways.

_Seems OK._

_That's good._ Numbers stared back into the fireplace, taking a swig from the bottle.

Wrench took a few small pulls from the bottle, but intended on staying sober. Tonight was an opportunity, and he was not about to miss it.

After a long silence, Wrench turned to Numbers.

_I wanna talk about Bismarck._

Numbers furrowed his brow and set his bottle down. _Which part?_

_The part in the motel._

Numbers hissed out a slow sigh between his teeth.

_Look, I don't know what happened. I was drunk. It felt good._ Numbers paused.  _I f-r-e-a-k-e-d-o-u-t, didn't know what to do._

_It felt good?_

Numbers laughed at the pitifully hopeful expression on Wrench's face, leaning back. _Yeah, man. It felt really good._

Wrench felt his heart in is throat. Numbers wasn't angry, and that was a very good thing. It at least meant Wrench could sleep without a knife under his pillow now. Numbers tapped him on the knee.

_We can't do that again, OK? B-u-s-i-n-e-s-s and p-l-e-a-s-u-r-e, you know. Too dangerous anyways._

Wrench stared at the floor, nodding solemnly, trying to take a little solace in being described as a pleasure. He took a longer pull from his bottle, no longer caring about staying sober. Numbers nudged his foot.

_Meant to say earlier, sorry about the tooth._

_It's OK now._

_Yeah, but I still broke it._

_Don't worry about it._ Wrench turned away, clearly done with the conversation.

Numbers could tell just by looking at him that he was feeling hurt and miserable. He hadn't meant to embarrass him or lead him on in any way. Numbers silently berated himself for admitting he liked the kiss. All it did was make everything complicated, not just for Wrench but for him too. What was he supposed to do with all of this? He'd been alone for so long he wondered if he'd forgotten how to be around people. Sure, he could be charming if need be, but when it came to genuine human interaction without pretense, he was lost at sea. Not only that, but with a guy? At least when his relationships with women failed he'd chalk it up to the job or women being a total mystery to him, but if this started up and then inevitably failed, what would he be able to blame it on then? God, was he really thinking about this, hooking up with another man? Numbers sighed loudly, leaning back into the couch, bottle on his lap. He wondered if there was enough liquor in the house to make any of this feel better.

The room was heating up, and Wrench finally shrugged off his jacket. Numbers glanced over to where his shirt had ridden up, exposing a large tattoo on his lower back. Numbers barked out a laugh, clapping a hand over his mouth. Wrench looked at him, eyes narrowed.

_Nice t-a-t-t-o-o._

Wrench quickly smoothed down the back of his shirt, shooting Numbers a dirty look.

_What are you angry for? I said it was nice! Question: Why a b-u-r-n-i-n-g-d-i-a-m-o-n-d?_

_Dangerous to talk about personal lives._ Wrench crossed his arms over his chest.

Numbers rolled his eyes. _You're in my c-h-i-l-d-h-o-o-d cabin. You've seen more of my personal life than anyone else in over 15 years. Come on. Talk to me._

Wrench brought his hands up to sign, but hesitated a while, as if not sure where to begin.

_Your secrets are safe with me._ Numbers reassured him, and Wrench allowed himself to grin at him.

_Robbed a few jewelry stores when I was younger. Got cocky, got a t-a-t-t-o-o._ Wrench made the sign, and watched Numbers repeat it. _Real proud of it for a long time. After a while doing other jobs, that sort of thing felt very small time._

Wrench paused for a second before continuing. _I saw your name._

Numbers eyes grew wide and he sat up straight, furrowing his brow slightly.

Wrenchbit his lip. He knew this conversation was a time bomb, and he had to diffuse it quickly.

_I'm H-e-a-t-h._

Numbers leaned back a bit in surprise. He hadn't been expecting that.

_Nice to meet you, H-e-a-t-h._ Numbers held out his bourbon, and the two men clinked bottles, grinning widely in the firelight.

 


End file.
